


Letters

by Deaf_Dog



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Boyfriend Overseas, M/M, Stucky - Freeform, letter writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 12:00:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12210858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deaf_Dog/pseuds/Deaf_Dog
Summary: Steve sends letters to Bucky every time he's away on work, but Bucky has trouble reading cursive. He decides to practice it until he can write a real letter back to Steve. Bucky x Steve





	Letters

**Author's Note:**

> During the 30's-40's, Central Park Zoo was called the Robert Moses Zoo. That's the name I used while writing this.

Steve glanced up from his menu, waiting for the news. Bucky sat across from him at the diner, trying to decide whether or not to order breakfast for lunch or a sandwich. Steve knew there was news. Every time Bucky had to leave to go somewhere because of the army he brought Steve to this diner to tell him. It was always like a goodbye meal without actually saying goodbye because Bucky wouldn’t have it. He always said, “No point in saying goodbye when I’m going to come back.” Although, Steve was terrified of the day Bucky didn’t come back. 

“Well, handsome, have you decided what you’d like?” A pretty waitress came to the table with a notepad in her hands. Bucky looked up to Steve, for once ignoring the girl. 

“What are you having, pal?” He asked. 

“I was thinking of a hamburger and fries. That’s always good.” Steve said, painfully aware of the girl watching Bucky. 

“Alright. Two hamburgers and fries and a malt.” Bucky ordered, smiling charismatically at the waitress. She blushed a bit, jotting it down. 

“Coming right up.” She turned around and headed back to the counter to give the cook their order. 

“One malt?” Steve asked. 

“I can never finish a whole one and neither can you, so I’ll take the glass and you can have the bucket.” Bucky smiled. 

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Steve returned the smile. There was a comfortable silence for a moment. Bucky out his hands on the table and looked at Steve with a knowingly. 

“I’m being sent out for a couple months.” He said, watching Steve’s reaction like a hawk. Steve tried to keep himself in check, not wanting to look too sad. 

“Where are you going this time? Anywhere fun?” Steve asked, ignoring his gut feelings. 

“Not as fun as New York, but I don’t mind travelling. This time I’m going overseas.” Bucky said with a twinkle in his eyes. 

“Really?” Steve perked up. “Well, now I’ll get some postcards from someplace new.” He grinned. “Where are you stationed?” 

“I’m going to be in Europe.” Bucky nodded. “One month in France. One month in Britain. One month in Norway. Do you really keep all the postcards I send you?” He asked, quizzically. 

“Of course I do. I keep them in a box under my bed. I liked the one from Florida the best with the alligator.” Steve smiled. “I’m still waiting for the Robert Moses Zoo to get one. Wouldn’t that be cool?”

“An alligator in Central Park? Keep wishing, buddy.” Bucky laughed. 

“So.  .  .” Steve started. “You being sent overseas.  .  . does it have anything to do with the war?” He asked. Bucky frowned. 

“No. Well, not really. I’m not going to be fighting, if that’s what you’re asking. The only way I’d see battle is if it got really tense and they’d need extra men on the field. I’m mostly training in new soldiers and doing paperwork. Boring stuff.” Bucky told him, needing to reassure Steve. He knew how worried he could get sometimes. 

“You better send me postcards, even if you end up in a trench.” Steve smiled, kindly. 

“Oh, definitely. ‘Weather’s great in the trenches! Wish you were here.’” Bucky laughed, which made Steve laugh. And that’s just what he needed to believe his friend. 

 

Bucky had just gotten to France when he received his first letter from Steve. He threw his bag down on his bunk and tore open the envelope. Groaning, he noticed that it was written in cursive. No matter how good he was in school, despite being a troublemaker, Bucky never really learned how to write in cursive. It was an art that he never got into. He did the required work for it, but after that his teachers never really expected him to keep it up. He started to read Steve’s letter, but only got two sentences in. 

 

_ Dear Bucky,  _

 

_ The girls at work are sad to see you go because now their favorite piece of eye candy is gone. I found that box of postcards and was looking through it the other day. _

 

Bucky laughed, rubbing his eyes. At this rate, it’d take him all night to decipher Steve’s note. He got up from his bunk and started to walk around the halls with the letter. At the front desk of the base was a young woman, who was probably a secretary. 

“Excuse me, miss.” Bucky called to her, walking up to the desk. “I forgot to pack my reading glasses. Could you tell me what this letter says? It’s from a friend of mine.” He said. The girl smiled and took the paper. 

“It reads:

 

_ Dear Bucky,  _

 

_ The girls at work are sad to see you go because now their favorite piece of eye candy is gone. _

 

She paused to giggle, making Bucky blush. 

 

_ I found that box of postcards and was looking through it the other day. I know I said the Florida one was my favorite, but I think I like the Iowa one better. I’ve always wanted to visit Chicago one day and maybe I will. I figure if you’re off in Europe, then I can at least see Chicago. How’s France? I think that’s where you are. Do french fries come from France? I know crepes do, even though I’ve never had one. Keep up the good work, Bucky. Your country appreciates it.  _

 

_ Sincerely, Steve Rogers _

 

Bucky smiled at the letter as the girl handed it back to him. He looked it over once more, some of the words making sense now. He looked up at the secretary. 

“So, do french fries come from France?” He asked. The girl giggled and shook her head. 

“No. They were first made in Belgium.” She told him. 

“Belgium.” Bucky repeated. “Really?” He left to go back to his bunk, grabbing a sheet of paper and a pencil to write with. It was getting late, so he only had his lamp to write by. 

 

_ Dear, Steve _

 

_ Believe it or not, french fries were actually invented in Belgium. The secretary here told me that. Who would’ve thought? Say hi to the girls for me. I know my absence must be heart-breaking. France is nice. I’ll send you a postcard when I find one. I’m sure there are a lot from all the tourists here. Us army men stick out like sore thumbs. I hope you’re doing well and I’m glad you found those post cards. You’ll definitely get more to add to your collection.  _

 

_ Sincerely, Bucky Barnes _

 

When Steve got the letter in the mail, he couldn’t stop grinning. With it came an almost blank postcard with the Eiffel Tower on it. The only thing written was the date and Bucky’s signature. Steve always felt like half of him was missing when Bucky was away. His best friend. Steve never really had girlfriends like Bucky, so he was mostly alone as he worked in New York. He knew that he really wasn’t going to go to Chicago, but it was a nice thought to think about. He wanted to tell Bucky something fun that he was doing, but nothing could match what was probably going on in  _ France.  _ Nevertheless, Steve wrote back. 

 

Bucky always got excited when he got mail, especially when he was deployed somewhere far from home. Mail was always the sign that  _ someone  _ cared about him. Someone cared enough to put thought into a package or writing. Someone was thinking about him. That’s how he felt when he got another one of Steve’s letters. He was just about to leave for Britain when he got it and he had to rub his eyes again when he saw the cursive. He tucked the note in his coat pocket and decided to attempt to read it once he got to the base in Britain. 

Bucky was happy that he was back somewhere that he could actually read the signs. France was beautiful, but he wasn’t very good at French. He was better at German, Spanish, Italian, Romanian, and Portuguese. The first stop he made when he had time to himself was a small bookstore on the corner of the street. 

It was a nice little shop with bookshelves all the way to the ceiling. Bucky didn’t always have time to read when he was on missions or working, but he did enjoy the occasional paper or book. He finally found what he was looking for and brought it up to the register. Bucky was a bit bashful, buying a book on how to read and write cursive. He didn’t want to seem illiterate at all and hoped the cashier didn’t take him as so, so he bought another book to look a bit smarter. He bought the cursive book and “North of Boston” by Robert Frost. 

When Bucky was comfortable in his bunk, he had a pencil and paper and started to do the exercises from the book. He used it as a translator for Steve’s letter, rewriting it on a different sheet of paper in normal handwriting. Bucky sighed in content, ready to read to letter. 

 

_ Dear, Bucky _

 

_ We had a bit of a rainstorm the other day which flooded out a lot of the streets. If there had been anymore, then you could ride a boat down Broadway. I went to the Robert Moses Zoo in Central Park to see the animals there. Ever since they remodeled in 1934, there are so many more animals there. I got to see a bat that was bigger than my face. They say they found it in South America. What a place to be. Imagine the jungles. I’m not sure where you are now, but I hope you’re doing ok. I know travel can make you cranky, so don’t take it out on the other guys, ok? Send some postcards when you get the chance. My collection could always use them. _

 

_ Sincerely, Steve Rogers _

 

Bucky made two decisions after reading the letter. First, he was not cranky when he traveled. Second, he was going to practice cursive before writing back to Steve. 

The next day, though, Bucky found a fun postcard of two goats swimming in a river. He decided to keep sending postcards, but wait on a real letter once he was confident in his cursive. The next postcard he found was for Halloween and he bought that one because the bats reminded him of Steve’s trip to the zoo. After dating it, he wrote on the back:

 

_ The bats here are a lot smaller than the ones you probably saw. _

 

Bucky thought that’d make Steve smile. Finally, after a couple weeks with the cursive book, he thought it was time to try his hand at a real letter. 

 

Steve had been worried for a couple weeks. Bucky hadn’t sent any letters back, but he did keep sending postcards. That soothed his anxiety a bit, but he wondered if Bucky didn’t have time to write or just didn’t feel like it. Steve thought maybe he should’ve asked more questions in his letters, knowing he sent a couple more even though Bucky hadn’t really responded to the first. All that stress disappeared the moment Steve opened his mailbox to see a letter from the one person he missed the most. He didn’t wait until he got to his apartment to read it, opening it up as he climbed the stairs. 

_ Dear Steve,  _

 

_ I know my handwriting must look really bad right now, but I’m trying to write in cursive for you. At first I had trouble reading your letters because you know I was never good at writing fancy, but I bought a book and have been practicing. I got all your letters, but I was waiting until I was better at cursive to write back. How great is my handwriting? I’ve been in Britain the past month, as you should know from the postcards. It’s rainy here, too, but probably not as bad as riding boats down the streets. I’m heading to Norway soon, so I hope to hear from you before I move.  _

 

_ Sincerely, Bucky Barnes _

 

Steve was smiling like an idiot as he walked into his apartment, almost stepping on a cat. Wait. Steve didn’t own a cat. He looked around his apartment and saw he had left the window open and two cats were making themselves at home in his small kitchen. He laughed. Now this was a story he could to Bucky about. 

 

Bucky was just packing up his things when a letter was handed to him. He opened it and smiled at the cursive writing, finally being able to easily read it. He sat down on his bunk for the last time to read Steve’s letter. 

 

_ Dear Bucky,  _

 

_ Do you remember how I’d feed the stray cats in the alley? Well, I left my window open yesterday and I guess I have two cats now. I stepped on one when I was reading your letter and it shocked me more than your writing. They haven’t left my apartment yet, even with the window open. I think they like it here. I’m not sure if they have names yet, but I named the girl Barbara and the boy is James. Him and you are a lot alike. He’s a nice cat when he wants to be, but he hits my hand when he doesn’t want me to touch him. He’s also quite the ladies man. I didn’t know girls liked cats so much.  _

_ Anyway, I don’t think I’ve seen you write in cursive since elementary school. Your handwriting sucks, but I love you anyway. Enjoy Norway.  _

_ Sincerely, Steve _

 

Bucky’s heart was caught in his throat. He couldn’t help but read that line over and over, making sure he was reading it right. 

 

_ Your handwriting sucks, but I love you anyway. _

 

_.  .  . I love you anyway. _

 

Bucky’s face was tinted pink as he covered his mouth. He smiled. His smile was so wide that it made his face hurt. He tucked Steve’s letter tight in the coat pocket that laid right over his heart. He was going to carry that letter with him everywhere. And Bucky was all ready to practice writing out “I love you, too” in cursive. 


End file.
